Nothing but Fatuous Love
by AShipperWithNoLife
Summary: Russia believes that he has finally found happiness in his life when he begins to experience a foreign emotion. Everything comes at a cost though. He may not be aware of it, but the same emotion that is giving him a seemingly endless amount of glee could also be the same emotion that might destroy his aspiration.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or it's characters. Also, I only rated this T because it is a one-shot based on a rated T story, and I don't think that little children should be reading about romantic feelings.**

 **A/N: So yeah, I'm experiencing slight writer's block right now, since I decided to change up chapter seven in 'Warmth in a Seemingly Cold Heart'. I believe that the pacing of the story is becoming a bit slow, and that everyone just wants to move on with the plot already, since there's still so much that needs to be explained. This one-shot is about how Russia discovered his feelings for America, and personally, I do believe there are a few hints on why he loves him. It may be some things you guys have already figured out though. Don't worry, I'll eventually go more in depth with Russia's POV in later chapters of 'Warmth in a Seemingly Cold Heart', and I even plan on writing a few more one-shots that actually show the terrible things that led to his depression.**

 **Also, Russia may seem a bit out of character in this, since I have no idea how he'd act if he had a crush on someone. This is all sort of based on how I felt when I had my first crush.**

* * *

He should've been taking notes, or at least making an attempt to pay some attention to the meeting, but for whatever reason, Russia was finding that to be increasingly difficult. At first, he thought it was the fact that he'd hardly slept at all the night before the meeting. However, that reason turned out to be a not so valid explanation, for aside from his constant daydreaming, he still had enough energy to function without feeling as if he was straining himself just from doing normal tasks, and his eyes certainly weren't stinging. Nor did his eyelids beg for him to let them rest for an eternity. It was really strange to Russia. He wasn't necessarily the type to daydream; in fact, he was the exact opposite. Usually, his mind would be filled with tormenting memories that no one deserved to be haunted by, so to distract himself from such anguish, he would avert his attention towards the other nations. For once, however, it wasn't some agonizing memory that happened to be the cause of his lack of sleep and constant daydreaming.

Instead, his thoughts were all focused on a certain young, blonde nation with a rather unique cowlick.

He didn't understand why he had a sudden obsession for the young nation, or what the purpose of his interest even was. All Russia knew was that he felt a sudden desire to hold America's smaller form in his arms, and take care of him as if he was nothing more than a helpless puppy. Even if America wasn't in any pain, or currently afflicted with an illness, he still wanted to do things such as carry him around in his arms, feed him, and do all of his work for him so that he would never have to lift a finger ever again. They were silly desires; he was aware of that. Despite the fact that he'd never felt such a warmth in his stomach before, Russia still put the feeling off as some sort of symptom of his loneliness. A dangerous symptom at that. Perhaps he should consider adopting a cat?

Russia felt himself melt on the inside as he listened to the natural, sweet sound that was America's voice. Various syllables and pitches becoming nothing more than a warm wave that washed over him, rather than being interpreted as words of importance. Russia could only become mesmerized as he observed America's captivating body language. A great amount of confidence was always present in his demeanor, despite the fact that some of his arm movements were quite laughable. Russia couldn't help but smile when he noticed America wave his arms as he talked about something being large, and then chuckled when the young nation brought one of his arms in front of him, and turned an open hand into a first as he explained that something was shrinking.

Unfortunately for him, America seemed to take notice in his innocent laughter, as the young nation immediately turned his attention to Russia. A scowl was now present on America's perfect face as he inquired, "What's so funny, Russia?"

Russia's grin grew wider, and if anyone could see past his unintentionally intimidating aura, they would've noticed a warmth in his expression, "You look funny when you speak."

America's glare became even more piercing. He opened his mouth, and was about to completely tell Russia off for laughing at his presentation, but a certain German didn't seem too fond of the fight that was about to happen, "Continue on with your speech!"

As much as the young nation wanted to put the Russian in his place at that moment, he decided to obey Germany's command, as he didn't want to put an abrupt end to his presentation due to losing his right to continue sharing his ideas, and have to wait an entire month just to be able to present again. However, this still didn't stop him from giving Russia a look once in awhile. By the time he was sitting in his seat once more, America began to do nothing more than glare at Russia, no longer upholding any interest in the meeting. Not that he ever did if he wasn't presenting.

Instead of returning the glare as he usually would, Russia averted his attention to the floor. For whatever reason, he was thrilled that America was looking at him for more than five seconds, while at the same time, he felt as if he was not ready to give America the same attention. By the time he did gather the courage to glance at America, he noticed that from the looks of it, it seemed as if the young nation was becoming suspicious of him.

At last, the meeting was finally over, which came to Russia as a much needed relief, for he was not at all enjoying how warm America's consistent glaring was beginning to make him feel. With his now shaky hands, Russia tried to pack up his things as quickly as possible. However, his nervousness must have slowed him down to a great extent, for most of his fellow nations were ready to leave the room by the time he was only halfway finished with packing up. When he was finally ready to leave, the only nations that remained were the ones that always seemed to take forever just to put away some papers.

Russia decided to leave the building through a route that the other nations seemed to forget about, not feeling as if he would ever be able to interact with another individual as long as he lived. He was about halfway down the hallway when he felt himself being pushed against the wall. His luggage ended up dropping to the floor, and his hands were pinned to the wall before he could even process what was going on. Russia whipped his head around to see who his attacker was, and was ready to start fighting back, but immediately froze when he found that it was America.

For a moment, Russia couldn't help but gaze into those cerulean eyes. Feeling himself be brought into a much more peaceful world with a beautiful, clear sky. Something that his harsh reality often didn't have, or at least, not during the winter. America on the other hand, clearly showed no interest in Russia's appearance whatsoever. In fact, he appeared to be quite disgusted with everything that made up his manifestation as he snapped, "I know you're up to something!"

Russia was almost tempted to laugh at the silly, paranoid nation. Not that it would be out of malice, but rather, he found it to be adorable for whatever reason. Instead, he decided to play along with it, only pretending to defend himself, "What do you mean by that, Amerika?"

America narrowed those ever so beautiful eyes as he stated, "Not only were you laughing and smiling like some weirdo during my presentation, but you hardly ever made eye contact with me throughout the entire meeting. Those are all obvious signs that you're up to no good!"

Then, America leaned in a little closer to Russia, as if he was trying to be more intimidating. Usually, Russia would've pushed him off at this point. Actually, he would've fought back the moment America dared to touch him, but instead, he found himself shivering do to the close proximity of their bodies. Although, he could say that these shivers were necessarily caused by any discomfort. Russia turned his head so that he was no longer looking at America as the young nation spoke once more, "You better tell me what you're up to."

Russia felt his face heat up as America's warm breath started to tickle his neck. He felt a sudden lightheadedness, almost as if his spirit was starting to drift away from his body. One thing was for sure, though. If America didn't continue to hold him against the wall, his legs probably would of gave out due to his unexplainable dizziness.

However, his legs were somehow able to support him anyways, as soon as America freed him of his grip. Russia wasn't sure whether or not he was relieved with the fact that he was now free, but he knew one thing for sure. America seemed to be even more disgusted with him (which would explain why he suddenly set him free), as he spat, "What the hell's wrong with you? Why do you have to be so weird all of the time!"

Russia still didn't respond, still feeling extremely shy in America's presence. Before America decided to walk away, as if he wanted nothing to do with the nation he'd just pinned to a wall, he told him with a fierce glare upon his face, "Don't think you're off the hook!"

As Russia watched America walk away, he couldn't help but suddenly feel giddy. The fact that his countenance seemed to heat up even more caused him to hide his face in his scarf. At that point, Russia didn't even think it would be wise to question what the cause of this intense, foreign emotion was. All he knew was that he was already becoming addicted to it.

* * *

A couple of weeks passed since Russia experienced such close contact with America, and every night, he would find himself fantasizing about the young nation for an entire hour before falling asleep. Of course, these fantasies would always be innocent. Just daydreams about them cuddling and having a conversation, or perhaps play fighting on the couch. Sometimes, he would imagine the two of them in different realities where they were both really close friends; facing various hardships together, and of course, having a great time in each other's company.

Sometimes, the daydreams would take up a majority of his morning. Since there was nothing to really do at his house anyways, he didn't even bother trying to stop himself from having these fantasy. Even if he did happen to be busy at the moment, he still wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop spending so much time in his head. The fantasies were just so addictive to him during that time, he wasn't sure if he would be willing to bring himself back to reality just to do something more productive.

It was when he was staring out the window all gleefully one sunny afternoon when he realized that something seemed to be a bit, off. At first, he put it off as nothing, and continued to happily stare out the window and enjoy the heat that the sun provided. Then, he started to absentmindedly bring up a memory of when America was so close to him during the last meeting. Russia still couldn't help but admire just how perfect the young nation's face seemed to be, but there was one thing in particular he suddenly found himself focusing on. For whatever reason, he seemed to be able to remember every detail of America's lips. How they weren't even chapped in the slightest, and how they just seemed to be so welcoming. He wanted to lean forward, and-

Suddenly, slight panic began to grip at Russia's heart. Did he seriously just wish that he could kiss America? At first, Russia needed a few minutes to process exactly what was going on, and as soon as he was over the shock, he began to avert his gaze towards the floor in shame. He felt extremely ridiculous for having his fantasies. Not only were his memories from the past starting to remind him of the reason why he was seemingly not allowed to enjoy the company of another human being in such a way, but he knew for sure that his love would never be returned. It was simple; America hated him for many reasons he would probably never be able to help.

For the first time in awhile, Russia felt as if he was nothing more than a small, disgusting creature. More nations seemed to be comfortable around America, so it was obvious that he received more love than him. Usually, Russia wouldn't have thought that would affect his self-worth in anyway. At least, when it came to those petty fights he had with America. However, he knew exactly what this meant for him. America was allowed to have such feelings since more people loved him, and well, Russia felt as if he shouldn't be allowed to have those feelings for anyone, since the most he'd ever had was a few friends that he'd hardly managed to keep.

After spending what seemed to be an hour of drowning in his own self-pity, Russia finally decided that one thing must have been true for sure; he deserved to go through the emotional pain he was experiencing for succumbing to such a useless emotion.


End file.
